As Close As I'll Get to Loving You
by Takersbeloved
Summary: Elizabeth lands her dream job with the WWE but is it really a dream come true? She meets one special person but he just seems to rub her the wrong way but the more she gets to to know him . . .the more she's drawn to him. But how could she be falling fo
1. Default Chapter

It was his laughter that first caught my attention. It was a little harsh, had a little bit of an edge to it as I came around the corner. The sound of it grated on my nerves. I winced as I heard it, wanting to turn and go the other way but I kept going, kept my head down.

"Mark, this is our newest writer. Come on over here Elizabeth I want you to meet someone."

I took a couple of more steps, wishing I'd been able to escape before I slowly turned to face Vince McMahon. I pasted a smile on my face and changed direction. I felt the stranger's green eyes quickly skim down my body and felt myself stiffen but there was nothing offensive in his gesture, nothing more than curiosity in the bright green gaze he turned on me. A smile still lingered on his lips, left over from his earlier laughter. I kept my smile firmly in place and turned away, looking at Mr. McMahon.

"Yes, sir?" I questioned.

Vince laughed casually, gesturing to the man standing with him. "This is one of our biggest draws. I want you to come up with a great storyline for him. He's been back for a little while." Vince paused, looking at Mark before he continued. "He took some time off for some personal things and to heal up some injuries but now he's back. We need a rock solid storyline to put him back in the hunt for the title. I want everyone talking about the Undertaker, I want his name on everyone's lips."

I watched as the Undertaker smiled, nodding slightly as Vince talked. Conceited oaf, I thought, trying to keep my thoughts to myself. I'd been around the business for a little while – working as a writer in the indy circuit for the last few years but this was my first week with the WWE. First and last, I thought with a smile, if I don't control my thoughts a little better. I doubt Vince would appreciate what I thought about his main attraction.

"So you agree Elizabeth?" Vince asked, a smile on his face, his eyes steady on me.

Startled I glanced up, getting caught in the laughing green eyes of the Undertaker. Damn him! It was almost as if he knew I'd been daydreaming, as if he knew I didn't particularly care for him and was enjoying my discomfort.

"Elizabeth?" There was an edge of impatience in Vince's voice now as he shifted impatiently beside me, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I hesitated, unsure where the conversation had moved onto while I'd been lost in thought. I flicked a hesitant look at Taker, frowning at him. Damn man. His smile widened.

"Do you agree Elizabeth?" Vince questioned, moving into my direct line of sight.

"I –um—well,– "

"We'll work the details out over lunch, right Beth?" Taker cut in smoothly, a smile curling his lips, green eyes laughing at me.

I bit my tongue, still unsure of exactly what I was agreeing to but not having a lot of choice with Vince McMahon staring at me. I simply nodded, agreeing to the only out I could see.

Vince smiled, rubbing his hands together. "Perfect, that's perfect. I knew I'd hired the right woman for the job. I just knew it!" Vince was almost cackling as he turned and walked away, turning to call over his shoulder, "You all go wherever you want for lunch. Turn it in on your expenses Mark. I'll take care of it." With a wave of his hand he disappeared around the corner.

Mark smiled, glancing at the woman standing in front of him. She was a tiny little thing. Not very tall, probably only a little over five feet even wearing those heels she had on. He shook his head, wondering how in the hell she walked in those things. He grinned – she'd been walking just fine when she'd thought she'd be able to walk right on by without speaking to him. She had on a tiny little short black skirt, showing her legs off to perfection. Short little legs. . . but damn nice. Loose red sweater, not too low cut but just low enough that hinted at what was there. Nice, very nice. His eyes slowly wandered back up to her face . . . past the long, dark blonde hair that trailed past her shoulders and up to the stormy blue eyes that would have dropped him where he stood if they could have. He sucked in a deep breath. What the hell was he doing? He was a married man.

I narrowed my eyes on him, wanting to get this over with. "So what did I just agree to?" I gritted out.

Mark took a step back, uneasy with the attraction he felt for her. He was married. Married. He kept repeating that to himself. He'd been doing that since he'd seen her a few weeks ago when she'd interview with Vince. Vince was looking for a new writer for his character and had heard about a writer on the Indy circuit that was unique, that had creative, original ideas. He'd done a little checking around, asked a few friends of his that still worked the Indy circuit and he'd heard nothing but good things about her. Well, he grinned, almost nothing but good things. She had a bit of an attitude. To put it bluntly – if you crossed her—bad shit happened to your character when you least expected it. Mark smiled. You could almost admire a woman who used the weapons at her disposal to hit you where it would hurt the most. Mark's smile faded slowly as it dawned on him . . .this was the woman that was going to be writing HIS character.

"Nothing much. So where would you like to eat?" he asked, turning to lead to way to the parking lot.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I glanced at Mark, wondering why he was so quiet all of a sudden. He'd been entertaining on the drive to the restaurant. Since he was more familiar with the area, he'd picked the restaurant. He wasn't full of chatter, but just pointing out interesting things I might like to see or do while we were in town but suddenly everything was quiet, silent as a tomb. The silence lengthened, becoming a little uncomfortable. What was it about him that made me so . . .aware of him? I shifted uneasily in the seat, wishing this lunch meeting was over with.

"So does your boyfriend object to the traveling we do?" His deep voice suddenly cut the silence, causing me to jump.

"So where's your wife?"

We both spoke at the same time, and then glanced out the windshield, wondering which one of us was going to answer first. The silence lengthened. Finally giving up, I answered.

"No, he doesn't have a lot to say about it." Especially since he dumped me when I got my dream job, I added silently. But he doesn't have to know everything. I turned to face him, staring at him silently.

Mark could feel her stare, could feel those deep blue eyes eating him until he wanted to just beg her to stop, to look the other way. She had no idea what she was doing, no idea the way she was affecting him. And he had to keep it that way. He cleared his throat, deciding to give her an abbreviated answer. "Sara is at home. The baby keeps her busy and when I can, I go home." I go home and get the cold shoulder from my wife and warm, sloppy kisses from my daughter he added. But she doesn't have to know everything.

"Hmm," I murmured, staring out the window, steadfastly refusing to look at him. "So where are we going?" I asked, determined to get on neutral, safe ground.

Mark shifted, watching traffic for a second before making a left hand turn without signaling. He ignored the horns blaring behind them and never let off the accelerator. "There's a nice restaurant over here that some of us go to when we're in town. There's a nice selection, you should find something you like," he muttered, pulling into a spot in the crowded parking lot.

I glanced at him, wondering if there was some hidden meaning behind his muttered comment. Rather than make something of it, I turned away, gathering my purse to get out of the car. I might find some food I'd like. . . because the company left a lot to be desired.

"Mr. Calloway, sir, right this way."

I glanced at the short little bald man holding the door for us. I expected the little man to bend down and kiss Mark's hand or his feet or watch him walk on water, something. Instead he just held the door and bowed as Mark walked through. I rolled my eyes as we walked by him into the restaurant. Unfortunately Mark turned around and caught me in the act. Laughing, he reached out and caught my arm, leading me forward into the restaurant.

"Come on before he loses his balance and falls over," he whispered, tugging me into the dark interior of the restaurant.

I glanced back at the round little man who smiled and waved and I tried not to laugh. I didn't want to be amused. Mark was THE UNDERTAKER, he was a conceited oaf and I didn't want to like him. And then I looked up and saw the laughter on his face, saw the smile and then he turned and bowed back to the little man at the door . . .and a little of my resentment of his high handedness melted away.

I laughed again, sipping the cold beer I held cradled between my hands. "You've got to be kidding me! You actually locked him in the casket?"

Mark chuckled, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere . . .and the company. "Well, yeah. It wasn't a real casket. Just one of those fake ones we'd had made up for the match. But he kept working the match a little stiff and I knew it was because he was scared of the casket, death really freaked him out, so I tried to be understanding but. . ." Mark paused and shrugged at her raised eyebrow, "Yeah I know – the thought of dying doesn't do a lot for me either. But for weeks we'd done these promos about me burying him in that casket and everything and it was getting to him. We went through the match, move by move and he knew what was going to happen. I was supposed to lose, it was supposed to be me in the casket. But he kept getting stiffer and stiffer. . ." Mark's voice trailed off and he took a drink of his own beer, giving her a wry look, "so what do you do with a stiff but stick 'em in a coffin?"

I closed my eyes, feeling the irritating burn of beer going up my nose as his words echoed in my mind.

"Beth?"

I heard his voice, heard the questioning tone and opened my eyes, smiling at him. "Just picturing him in my mind, locked in that casket until they got him to the back and could get him out." I shook my head wryly, laughing with him, enjoying the amusement that shone from his hazel eyes. After a few minutes, I caught myself staring into his eyes, the amusement fading. My smile slowly slid away and I abruptly set my beer back on the table. "I think it's time we went back to the office, don't you?" Turning, I started gathering my jacket and purse.

Mark caught himself staring at the woman across from him, wondering at her abrupt change of mood. One minute they were laughing, getting along just fine and the next she was tense and ready to push him out the door. Shaking his head, he stood up and pulled her chair out, helping her on with her jacket and casually tossing a few bills on the table before grasping her elbow and starting for the door. In a matter of minutes they were on their way back to the office.

I looked out the car window, watching the scenery as it flashed by in a blur. Trying to decide exactly what I was feeling. I rubbed a hand across my eyes, keeping my face turned away from him and my eyes locked on scenery passing the passenger window. There for a second, just a split second, there'd been an attraction between us. I'd seen the flare of desire in his eyes as well, had felt the tightening sensation in the pit of my stomach. That was the reason for the abrupt departure. He was married. He was a happily married man. What in the hell was I thinking?

"Well, what are we going to do?"

I jerked my head around, my eyes wide at his question. "What do you mean?" Had he read my mind? Did he know I'd been attracted to him? Was he going to say something? I felt my heart pounding, felt my palms sweating and tried to wipe them on my skirt without him noticing.

He frowned, looking at me questioningly. "We need to have a meeting and discuss where my character needs to go. We need a good storyline for my comeback, something that the fans can really get behind. That's what Vince was saying right before we left." He smiled, "You know when you were dreaming about having your hands wrapped around my throat?"

I forced a smile, grateful that he had pulled the conversation back on a business setting. I ignored the reference about choking him. "Oh, um, sure. Give me a couple of days and I'll come up with something for you. Vince just told me he had someone special he wanted me to write for but he hadn't told me the character yet. Today was the first I'd heard it would be you."

Mark arched a brow, giving her a questioning look but decided to keep his mouth shut. Surely Vince would have said something before now. He wouldn't have just sprung something this big on . . .Mark shook his head. Yes, Vince would. He liked surprises. "Damn, he just sprung it on you huh? No wonder you looked like you had murder in mind right before we left."

I eased back in the seat, trying to focus on the conversation instead of on the way his hands easily controlled the powerful car, picturing them on me instead. I closed my eyes, trying to blot out the sight, realizing, finally admitting to myself why I'd avoided meeting this man since I'd come to work here. Oh I'd seen him backstage off and on – but every time there had been even the off chance we'd run in to each other and I might actually have to speak to him – I'd go the other way. Now I know why. Self-preservation. The man got me thoroughly hot and bothered. And he belonged to another woman. God damn it.

"What's wrong, Beth?"

Blearily I opened my eyes, turning my head slightly to glance at Mark. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Seeing the disbelief on his face, I could tell he was about to argue with me so I rushed to cut him off, "I was just going over some scenes in my mind, trying to figure out the best storyline to bring you back into the hunt for the title." I consoled myself with the thought that it wasn't exactly a lie – I had thought of that for all of five seconds –but then I'd moved onto bigger and better things - -like his hands sliding over me, pulling me close as his lips closed over mine. . . I groaned.

"You say something else, Beth?"

I jerked around and looked at him, seeing mere curiosity in his eyes. He had no idea what was running through my mind."Um, wasn't that our turn back there?"

He looked and then cussed and looked for a place to turn around.


	3. Chapter 3

"So how was your lunch date with the infamous Undertaker?"

I glanced up at the question, noting that the blonde leaning against my door had a slightly snide look on her face to match her tone of voice. I narrowed my eyes, raking her from head to toe. Cassie was one of the other writers and she hadn't bothered to welcome me with open arms. She wore tight khaki pants with a tight shirt stretched across her breasts, she was probably 5' 6" or 8" – not fat but not overly trim either. The outfit left little to the imagination but really didn't do a lot for her figure either. I watched calmly as she sauntered slowly into my office and moved some folders out of the chair across from my desk and planted herself comfortably in the chair. She made herself right at home—as if she owned the place. Or soon would.

I casually reached out and closed the folder I was working on where I'd been making notes to myself on possible storylines for Taker. Vince had made it perfectly clear that the storylines for Taker were to be kept between myself, Taker and Vince. The storylines were to be confidential until the last possible moment. Laying my arms across the closed folder, I eyed Cassie closely for a moment. I knew what her problem was – knew and understood to a certain extent. She wanted my job. She'd put in to be the head writer and failed at that twice. And then when Vince started looking for a writer to concentrate mainly on the Undertaker – one of his main Superstars then Cassie had been ecstatic. She thought she'd finally found her niche, her way to the top. She'd been one of the writers to do his Ministry of Darkness phase – her one claim to fame with his character but she'd thought it would be enough. Evidently Vince hadn't. He'd hired outside the company and in I'd walked – right into "her" job – or at least that's how she looked at it.

She let me know in the smallest of ways. My office was supposed to have been ready for me to move into four weeks ago when I arrived. When I arrived at headquarters there were boxes and boxes of files piled in here, old costumes, the furniture hadn't been delivered, nothing had been wired and set up. Cassie was the one who was responsible for setting everything up. Vince had set everything into motion and then simply turned it over to someone else – his usual style. Cassie had volunteered. She'd held off everything indefinitely and then when I arrived and nothing was done – she'd blamed it all on her assistant. And Vince had stepped in as soon as I arrived and things weren't done to his satisfaction. Within 48 hours Vince had my furniture delivered and the office cleaned out and aired out and new carpet and furniture arranged. The office was wired to my specifications and it looked like it had been my office for years instead of a day. Cassie's assistant disappeared. I'd seen her like a shadow skulking around the first day and a half I was there—her and Cassie always in the corner whispering and then breaking apart whenever I'd walk near them. The last time I'd seen them together Cassie had handed her a manila envelope. Wonder how much she'd been paid to take the fall for Cassie? It's amazing just what you can find out when you keep your mouth shut and just watch and listen. . .

But as soon as Vince got involved, Cassie's assistant disappeared. Vince made the announcement later when I was introduced to the rest of the writing staff that she was no longer part of the company. There was no explanation, simply a statement of fact that she'd failed to follow through on an important assignment and she was no longer needed.

And then Cassie made sure that I wasn't part of the rest of the writers either. At least she was trying to. The writers usually met after work for drinks on Wednesdays. I'd noticed their little meetings the first couple of weeks after I arrived. Cassie usually everything and then let everyone know the time and place. I'd never been invited to one. I've been around for the past four weeks and not once had an invitation been issued to me. I shrugged, settling back into my chair as I stared hard at Cassie and argued with myself, maybe they were waiting until I "officially" started which was just this week. The first three weeks I'd mainly met with Vince and the other McMahons and settled into my office, making myself at home and getting comfortable, getting ready to work. I smirked to myself, knowing that really wasn't the reason for no invitation but it made me feel better for a little while. I sighed to myself and thought who needed a bunch of petty little snots who wanted to play kindergarten games anyway?

I shrugged away the niggling little sensation that everyone needed a friend and settled my gaze back on Cassie, catching her in the act of straining to catch a glimpse of the folder on my desk. Leaning back casually in my chair I made sure the folder was covered before asking her blandly, "See anything interesting?"

Cassie jumped, her startled gaze jumping up to meet the icy blue eyes staring at her across the polished cherry desk. The desk that was supposed to have been hers. Her desk, her chair, her office, her job. Her man. Gathering her scattered composure, she slowly straightened her spine, determined not to let herself be intimidated. The damn woman had just started here, _she_—Cassie—was the one with seniority, she was the one who'd put in all the time, she was the one who'd deserved to be writing for the Undertaker. Pasting a half-smile on her face, Cassie flinched only slightly as she met Elizabeth's gaze. There was just something about those eyes, something that floated just beneath the surface that you caught a glimpse of every now and then that just made you think twice before you crossed her. Giving herself a mental pep talk, assuring herself that she was just listening to rumors—she'd heard the rumors of Elizabeth on the indy circuit too—Cassie got to her feet, keeping her face smooth, her movements unhurried. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about Beth. I—"

I stayed seated, leaning back in my chair and kept my comfortable pose. The only way you could tell I was slightly ticked off was slight narrowing of my eyes and the way my foot tapped unobtrusively against the leg of my chair. It was either that or rip some of Cassie's blonde hair out by the roots. "Elizabeth," I said.

Cassie paused, "Huh?"

I tilted my head, considering her slightly, "My name is Elizabeth. Only my friends call me Beth."

Cassie smiled but it never reached her eyes and tried again, "As I was saying, I don't know what you're talking about Beth. I just came to welcome you to the WWE."

I ignored her fake cheerful welcome, knowing she didn't mean it and I really didn't care. "I said my name is Elizabeth."

Cassie opened her mouth but hesitated at the look on the other woman's face. Finally deciding her safest course was the avoid the issue and simply retreat, she started backing towards the door. She wasn't going to learn anything today. Besides, what could they have done over lunch? Retreating toward the door, Cassie stopped with one foot in the hall and turned for one last glance at the blonde sitting so casually behind what should have been her desk. "Let me know if you need some help coming up with some ideas for the Undertaker. I've always been good at writing his character." Cassie smiled and went to step out the door.

"Is that right?" I questioned, tired of her little cat and mouse game. My voice was cool and calm as I asked the question and Cassie froze in her tracks before she turned to face me.

A smile was on Cassie's face, her brown eyes laughing at me from across the room as she faced me. "Didn't you do your homework, _Elizabeth_?" She put so much emphasis on my name that I almost wanted to smile. Almost.

I nodded slowly, "I always do my homework, Cassie. Never doubt it."

I saw her eyes flicker, saw her frown and could see the guilt chase across her face before she consciously got control of herself and forced a smile. Someone should tell her that frowning like that gave her wrinkles. Yeah, someone should tell her. I'd save that little tidbit for another day. I'd even be nice and point out the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth it had already caused . . . Just to be nice . . . .

"I wrote Taker's Ministry of Darkness phase," Cassie bragged, stepping back into the office, eager to point out her claim to the Undertaker.

I brought my attention back to our conversation and off Cassie's wrinkles. I nodded thoughtfully, as though truly impressed with her claim. "Actually Cassie, if we're going to be truthful here—and let's be truthful if nothing else, shall we?" I glanced at her, truly enjoying this moment. She'd been a thorn in my side for four weeks. Not drawing blood but just scraping across my skin when I least expected it. I was a little annoyed. It was time to set this relationship straight – I was not going to be anyone's door mat. I didn't wait for Cassie's hesitant nod, just went right on. "So we're being honest here, right? So for Taker's Ministry of Darkness phase it was actually a team of about six writers, all working together to come up with the details. The actual idea for the Ministry was Vince's. He wanted a heel stable and his main heel at the time was the Undertaker." I glanced at Cassie and saw the anger on her face, knew she'd expected me to simply take her word for it – that she'd written that part of Taker's past. "You were just one of many to work on that storyline."

Cassie smiled and took a few steps closer, leaning against the chair she'd been sitting in earlier. "Your little homework assignment is incomplete, Elizabeth. There were six of us that started working on the Ministry of Darkness storyline." Cassie paused, savoring her victory, she walked closer, leaning over the desk to look into those blue eyes that could intimidate so many—but not her, not this time. "But it was me—and only me—that came up with the idea to combine the MOD with the Corporation and form the Corporate Ministry." Cassie waited for the shock to appear on Elizabeth's face but it didn't happen so she ploughed right on, revealing more than she might have if she'd given herself time to think. "It was my idea to make Vince the Higher Power, to have him be the one controlling the Corporate Ministry. All my idea!" Cassie hissed, straightening with a satisfied smirk curving her lips.

I smiled at her, "Yes, I know."

Cassie's smile faded, her bombshell falling flat. "What do you mean—you know?"

My smile faded and I met her gaze without flinching, holding it without letting her drop her gaze. "Like I told you, Cassie – I always do my homework. I'm thorough. I know that you claim to have written all of that storyline, that you claim it and the other writers just shrug it off and let you. But that storyline was a group effort—all but the very end where the MOD joined the Corporation and that was your brain child. That and the Higher Power." I gave her a few minutes to soak that up before continuing, "And the way the story goes is that that is the only storyline that Taker didn't like the way his character went – but he went along with it. It wasn't his favorite and in hindsight he would never do it again – but you know what they say – hindsight is twenty/twenty." I watched the rage build on her face, could feel the waves of her anger reaching for me across the desk as I derided her one and only claim to fame in the WWE. It was amazing how calming it was to me to watch her anger burn and smolder. I watched her curiously, waiting to see what she was going to do, prepared to meet her head on if she was going to come across the desk. But I doubted it would come to that. She was more the type to come at you from behind.

Cassie stood stunned for a minute, staring at Elizabeth as she stared calmly at her out of those cold blue eyes, eyes that just calmly looked at a person as she tore their dreams out from under them. She waltzed right in and took her job—the job Cassie had worked so hard for and then she had the nerve to sit there and say that she hadn't written the MOD storyline. What did she know? She hadn't been there. She'd been on some Indy circuit writing for some unknown and never will be wrestlers. She—Cassie—was in the big leagues, writing for Taker, Kane, HHH—all the big names.

Jerking her head up, Cassie glared at Elizabeth, "Taker liked the storyline just fine. He went along with it, didn't he?"

I shrugged, "He went along with the storyline, that's true enough. He's a team player. But did he like it?" I just looked at her, knowing I was right but wondering if she had enough sense to just let the argument go.

Cassie turned and stomped toward the door, very ungraceful in defeat. "You bitch," she muttered as she crossed the threshold.

"Cassie," I called, hearing her muttered insult.

She froze but didn't have the nerve to turn around and face me. "Next time you decide to visit my office – wait until you're invited." I waited until Cassie slowly nodded and took a step before adding, "I'm a bitch who guards her privacy." I grinned as she slammed the door on her way out.

I laughed out loud and twirled my chair around, having enjoyed the confrontation immensely. Cassie was right—I was a bitch. But only when provoked. I settled back in my chair, closing my eyes and relaxing as I let the events of the day roll through my mind. I could feel the tension finally begin to ease from my system and settled a little more firmly into my chair.

"Making friends already, aren't you?"

I jerked my feet down off my desk, almost tipping the chair over in my haste. Mark stood framed in my door way, his shoulders barely fitting through the space. A small smile curled around his lips, his eyes laughing at me as I attempted to right myself without falling out of my chair or flashing him.


End file.
